


no one’s gonna take my soul away

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Choking, Gen, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 01:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Chase gets kidnapped.





	no one’s gonna take my soul away

**Author's Note:**

> so i... plan on doing a series based on this scenario. i have some good vague ideas, but i'll work into fleshing them out. this is just the beginning, the future fics _should_ be longer.
> 
> also for hc-bingo with the square "strapped to a moving vehicle".
> 
> enjoy!

Chase struggles on his way to the car.

The man grabbing him is bigger than him, warm hands that wrap around his throat as he fights it as much as he can. He doesn't have nearly enough muscle for it, gasping for air as he kicks at him, grabbing at his hands uselessly, begging to be allowed to breathe. He drifts in an out of consciousness as the man lets him breathe, shoves him somewhere dark and compact.

He sobs, struggling as rope burns right onto his skin. The movement is jerky, cursing and crying as he tries to get a glimpse out of being kidnapped. There's bile rising up his throat as the man puts a strip of duct tape over his mouth, muffling all the sounds that come out of it. Tears slide down his cheeks silently, sobs breaking off his throat and into the relentless gag that keeps him, for the most part, quiet.

Before he can make out anything else— the face of his captor, even— the trunk of the car is slammed shut, and he's submerged into darkness. All he knows is the duct tape he can press his tongue against, like if he pushes strong enough it'll come off, and the rope rendering him immobile. He's still clothed, at the very least, his lab coat still around one arm. He's folded rather awkwardly, in a position that makes his back hurt just by being in it for a few minutes. His knees to his chest, thighs tied along with his torso. There's a strip of rope around his neck that connects him to  _ something _ , a bar of sorts on the trunk of the car.

The car moves fast. He can make that out. He's moved around mercilessly by the speed of it, the rope around his neck tightening a little as he's thrown back and forth in the trunk of the car. He's dizzy; he really can't tell how long it has been. The minutes seem like hours, and with his wrists tied, he can't exactly try and find his phone among the mess in the trunk.

The minutes are endless. With every passing second, it's like he can't quite make out what will his destiny be. He's already formulating all the possible scenarios in his head, each worse than the last. Killed, sold to the highest bidder, used, tortured.

He tries to come up with why would anyone kidnap him, tries to focus on thinking even as a slam of the brakes sends him rolling right onto the trunk's door, a thin line of blood down his nose from the impact. The noose is a tad tighter now, as well. He tries to focus on thinking, on getting something out, and all he can come up with is  _ House. _

He doesn't quite understand why he would be a vendetta against House, but that is what he thinks about, anyway. He's not a valuable asset or a close friend, but he's still his long-lasting employee. Perhaps the man is someone they treated that they ruined the personal life of in the process. Perhaps the man wants revenge. 

He can't know. He doesn't know. He's asphyxiating.

Before he can pass out, there's another slam of the brakes, gentler this time around. The trunk door is opened; it's deep into the night now, the moon the only light to guide them.

The man makes quick work of undoing the noose, but he still can't get a good glimpse of his face. He's wearing a mask.

"You're home," he says. The first thing he can tell about his voice is that it's raspy, masculine, and most importantly, vaguely Australian. Enough for him to notice, but most people wouldn't pick it up at first. He must have been in the States for a while now.

He stares up at the figure, swallowing audibly. What he can gather from his surroundings is even worse— a forest, trees upon trees, the night engulfing them whole, a cottage close by. 

The man picks him up without any difficulty.

"I'm sure you'll grow used to it, Robbie. We'll get along great."

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he manages to keep it down a little. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to relax as the man makes his way into the cottage. The heater is on, wood creaking underneath them. 

The idea of getting used to an existence made out of this doesn't sound too bad now, but he's sure that'll be up to change when his kidnapper brings out what he  _ wants _ out of him. For the time being, he finds comfort on the fact he's getting untied and put in a room.

He can deal with the rest as it comes his way. At least, that's what he's going to tell himself through the first night.


End file.
